


Shrimp

by wickedrum



Category: Actor RPF, Richard Armitage/Lee Pace - Fandom
Genre: Emetophilia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard’s visit to the HACF set doesn’t go as planned. Or does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By Appointment Only

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers/Genre/Notes: Unfortunately I don’t own a Lee Pace. Not the original, and not the character as we have here. Written for enjoyment only. Given the genre, hurt/comfort, I don’t usually see fit imposing the hurt part of that on real people, even if only by imagination. The way I can justify the following fic is this: I’d like to state and underline that Lee Pace, Richard Armitage, and all the other personages in this work are characters/products of fiction here who happen to have the same names and similar characteristics/circumstances to their counterparts in real life. In other words, let me stress once more that this fanfiction is not about Lee Pace, it is about Lee Pace, the character. My Lee Pace, so to speak. So I didn’t hurt him, the real him, not even in my imagination, you see?  
> Thank you to susiederpkins for pointing out to me Lee doesn’t like shrimp. (Traceable to twitter)

Set: April 2015

Warning: Unless you like pure, unadulterated hurt/comfort for the sake of it, it’s unlikely you will understand the point to this fic. Also, possible trigger warning for purging. 

Mood(LJthrowback): Appreciated

 

 

Richard ambled onto stage 4 of Raleigh Studios in Georgia, used by AMC for some indoor scenes of their summer show, Halt and Catch Fire. He did not have too much trouble getting through security even though he didn’t technically have a valid pass for the day. However, everybody from the director to the washing room attendant and their grandmother apparently, knew who he was, at least in relation to the show’s main protagonist and as a result he was ushered through all the way to just right behind the cameras where Lee and John Getz (possibly the man’s name was) were shooting a dinner scene as Joe and Joe Macmillan Sr. 

 

 

Then Englishman inched round and to the side, making sure he was out the way of the blinding lights that would’ve made it impossible for Lee to see him from where he was, then waved a quick hand discreetly. It was later than he’d expected Lee’s day to finish, but of course there could never be a fixed schedule when shooting these things. There would be no time now to go out for something to eat as they had previously planned, but maybe they could grab some fine takeaway on their way home.

 

 

Lee raised a hesitant hand up as well in between takes, looking uneasy and reserved, making Richard feel a little guilty for waltzing into the studio without prior agreement just because the American didn’t get home in time. It’s not like he could help it when his work was holding him back. Stephanie however, (from the makeup or hair department, Richard didn’t know exactly which at first,) assured him, also waiting on the sidelines, that this would be the last scene for the day. “I’ll need to go in again before the next take,” she shook her head, “to put some colour on his cheeks. I don’t know what’s wrong with this lighting, but he always looks so pale,” the professional makeup artist commented and stepped into action. 

 

 

Richard paled himself at the remark, jaw dropping, suddenly, but immediately realising the most possible reason behind the occurrence of Lee’s colour, beating himself over for not spotting it earlier. The dinner scene where shrimp was eaten-he had seen Lee take the fork repeatedly to his mouth but did not previously look close enough to establish it was shrimp, a kind of food that the taller man would not voluntarily, ever, consume, given that the mere sight of the foodstuff admittedly made him sick to his stomach. Richard glanced at the board, they were at take number 9. Well, if that wasn’t heroic acting, he didn’t know what was. He paid close attention to the next take, wishing, secretly cheering so that it would work out well, the director will like it and that it would be the last one. The Englishman didn’t know the dialogue, but suddenly the older man in the scene was apologising and it became clear it had been messed up and there would be yet another take. Lee spat something out into a napkin, then swallowed thickly, perspiration breaking on his forehead that the makeup artist expertly removed quickly. He waved at Richard again, giving him a small smile, but there was no life in it. 

 

 

A camera angle adjustment and a shout for action later, John Gratz as Joe Macmillan Sr. went into some spiel about losses and revenues and consequences and a deal offer for Mutiny, all very businesslike, as if he wasn’t talking to his son, during which Joe was supposed to listen aloofly, but covertly edgy, occasionally popping some shrimp into his mouth-why oh why! 

 

 

Finally, ‘Joe’ lifted his eyes at the man, “you approached Cameron and she turned you down. What makes you think she’d ever change her mind? It’s…” Lee tried to take a big breath, but it wasn’t helping. He barely had the presence of mind to clamp a hand on his mouth, scramble out his seat and make it a few feet, instinctively getting closer to Richard, before throwing up violently onto the floor, eliciting a cacophony of reactions from the crew, from astonishment and concern to stepping back and respectively, stepping forward to his aid. 

 

 

One of those was of course, Richard and once he was there, the others naturally let him take over, put a comforting hand on Lee’s back. “Just give him space, he will be okay,” the Englishman assured, having a better understanding of the occurrence than the rest of them. “Lee? Do you want to sit? You can be sick sitting you know?” He suggested, not trusting the way his boyfriend was lurching forward. 

 

 

Strong hands held him on the other side too, Mickie, one of the producers had appeared from somewhere in the flesh, “what’s going on? Lee what’s wrong?”

 

 

The addressed just shook his head. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he opened his mouth again, so he simply concentrated on stopping a second bout of puking from happening and his legs from feeling weak. Someone had supplied some towels they had thrown onto the floor in front of him to cover the disgusting mess with bits of shrimp in it that had done nothing for him getting his body under control and for that he was thankful. A bucket came next that they had set down there too and a chair behind him. He would’ve told them it was overkill and that he was fine, but some moan came out instead and he was unceremoniously being pushed and lowered down to sit, with Richard narrating what they were planning in advance. 

 

 

“Are you feeling better? Do you want some water?” Lee’s attentive boyfriend asked as a glass of the refreshing liquid had also appeared in the Englishman’s hand as if by magic, courtesy of a rather efficient crew by the looks of it. 

 

 

Lee rubbed at his stomach, wincing. He was quite sure he didn’t get rid of all the shrimp he had swallowed and the thought of them dead things having a little swim in the water he would ingest, elicited another wave of nausea. “Can we just have a small break?” He asked instead.

 

 

Juan Jose Campanella, director of the current episode gave a little laugh, also standing quite close by the sound of it. “I think that’s it for the day, son. We can possibly put that last scene together from fragments if necessary,” he assured. 

 

 

“What we should do is get you to a doctor to make sure you can work tomorrow,” Mickie sighed, somewhat relieved that Lee’s affliction didn’t seem too serious. It was the producer’s job after all to create an environment where everyone could give their best. 

 

 

“I don’t need a doctor,” Lee maintained, though he continued to lean forward, hand held firmly on his stomach as if that would help keeping the contents in. He was rather embarrassed by the predicament and the trouble he’d caused and he would be even more embarrassed if people found out the whole upheaval was caused by him simply having a strong aversion to shrimp. “I will be here tomorrow, fresh and ready,” he promised. 

 

 

“How can you be so sure?” Mickie frowned disbelievingly, “wouldn’t it be best if you got checked over? Given something for the symptoms?” He took out his phone to make arrangements, not really taking a no for an answer.

 

 

“It’s just an upset stomach,” his main actor continued, “I really don’t want to cause any more trouble. I just want to go home and sleep it off,” he pleaded. There was nothing to find that had medical significance, it would be a waste of time. 

 

 

“I will take him and be there, make sure he sees a doctor if he needs to,” Richard stepped in, realising how much Lee wanted be left in peace and away. 

 

 

“Well, if you’re sure…” The producer trailed off, phone hesitantly hovering in the air. 

 

 

Lee stood, trying to prove himself, “I’m okay,” he sworn, “sorry for the mess.” Feeling a little lightheaded, he didn’t look anybody in the eyes as he made his way towards the exit, closely flanked by his boyfriend. It felt a little like a scramble to get the heck out of dodge, but then again, that’s exactly what it was. 

 

 

Tbc


	2. Entitled to Spoils

Chapter 2: Entitled to Spoils

“Lee?” Richard asked probingly as they made their way down the empty, cool corridor leading to the main entrance, “are you alright?” He fretted, concerned. It wasn’t as if Lee’s colour returned to normal or that he said much. “Was it the shrimp?”

His boyfriend groaned and held up a defensive hand, “do not mention that word to me.” 

“So it was,” Richard raised his eyebrows, somewhat amused. A pretty strong repulsion it must be then. “But why on earth did you not tell them you can’t eat that?”

“I can. It’s not like I’m allergic to it.”

“Well, you know what I mean.”

“Because they already had it set up, ok? There weren’t other kinds of food ordered for the scene. If I kicked up a fuss, the delay in the filming schedule was on me. Besides, I thought I could manage a couple of takes. I was just unlucky there was more,” Lee explained.

“Are you feeling better?” Richard hoped now that they were out in the open parking lot. 

“Yes.” The American gave, though he still didn’t look it. But he did take advantage of the fresh air and took a few deep breaths, shaking fingers on his abdomen, “although I wish I could lie down for a bit,” he peered at his boyfriend self-consciously.

“You could’ve done that in the dressing rooms,” the older man admonished, taking his arm nervously, fearing Lee wasn’t too steady on his feet, “let’s get you in the car.” He steered the American towards his hire Mercedes. 

“I’m sorry about this,” Lee seemed diffident, “did you get the chance to eat anything? Cause I won’t be joining you I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Richard opened the car door for the other, then once they were inside, he rolled down the windows and reached for the recliner knob of the passenger seat, “it’s not a bed, but you could at least lean back a bit?”

Lee nodded, taking over fiddling with the handle himself, ending up only putting it back a little. He put his knees up against the dashboard instead as it was the best way he could curl up in the limited space. His blue eyed partner frowned uneasily, not making any attempts to turn on the engine. “Are you sure it’s just the…the word I’m not meant to say. Remember I’m taking responsibility here for your presence on set tomorrow morning!” He bantered.

“Uhum,” Lee looked up to make eye contact, trying to convince the other, “just a little achy.” 

Richard’s eyes traced Lee’s palm stroking back and forth over his own stomach, “do you want me to rub it for you?” He suggested, with a little more interest than the other’s wellbeing would’ve strictly indicated. He would’ve rubbed any part of him if it was necessary, and even if not.

“I…don’t mind,” his boyfriend hesitated, not sure if the pressure would be good or bad, but he would not refuse Richard’s hands on him. The Englishman leaned forward and slipped a hand under his, edging to slide and reach underneath the tight t shirt Joe Macmillan’s changed fashion sense called for these days. 

“You’re very tense,” Richard observed, pressing softly. “You need to relax. Nobody is stuffing you any more.”

“Tell that to my stomach,” Lee moaned.

“Try to take some big breaths for me, okay?”

“That just makes it worse,” Lee opposed, “it helps the nausea, but the movement hurts my belly.”

“In what way does it hurt?” The Englishman asked for specifications so that he knew better how to help. The tummy under his hand seemed hard, perhaps a little bloated despite Lee being sick earlier. Richard concentrated on the reactions his slow massage was causing as well, he didn’t want to do more harm than good.

“Cramping. In the middle. And higher.” 

Richard immediately moved from below to right on and above Lee’s navel and gave a try at rubbing harder, and cover more of his abdomen, but the effect was that Lee tensed up even more. He didn’t out and out refuse being touched, but he was paling to a shade of grey. “Jesus.” The older man retreated, “what is it you’re not telling me?”

Lee shook his head, unyielding, “can we just go home?” He pleaded, “cause there’s a bathroom there,” he tried half joking his way out. 

“Sure, we can,” Richard put the car into drive. “But in the meantime, maybe you could tell me what’s wrong?” He encouraged, not as patiently as he would’ve liked. He was starting to get worried. 

“It’s embarrassing.” It was the only thing Lee imparted.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Richard was a little puzzled. “It’s just me. You think I’ll be grossed out by bodily functions? I think I've proved before that I'm not?” 

“It’s not that. I will deal with it,” Lee promised. 

Richard sped up, past the barriers of the parking lot. He was somewhat irked that Lee didn’t trust him enough to tell and slightly apprehensive too. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night. 

Tbc


	3. Shields Up

Chapter 3: Shields Up

Richard hovered protectively as he let themselves into the small apartment Lee rented for when in Atlanta. Movements sluggish and face pale, the Englishman couldn’t say his partner looked much healthier than he had been when they have left the studio, proving him right by lowering himself down onto his side as soon as they reached the couch. “What can I do to help?” Richard offered. 

“Nothing,” Lee sighed.

“I could pop down to the pharmacy. Just tell me what to get, I don’t know these American brand names.”

“I don’t need anything from there,” the younger man’s voice was a bit muffled by the cushion he half turned his face into.

“Should I make you a tea? Some herbal ones can be soothing,” Richard offered instead.

“No tea.” Lee established firmly, panicky, then swallowed. Again with that thought, shrimp swimming. 

“I’m sure I could improvise a makeshift icepack as long as you’ve got a towel somewhere,” the Englishman was still trying be of use.

“No, Rich, stop it. I’m fine. See?” The younger man pushed himself up in a sitting position, “just leave it. We could watch that National Geographic thing you wanted me to check out.”

“You don’t look fine, Lee,” Richard huffed. 

“It doesn’t matter, drop it.”

“What did you mean by being embarrassed? If you’re too embarrassed to loo bomb, fart bomb or belch in front of me and that’s what is keeping you feeling sick, I swear I’ll make you pay later.” The Leicestershire man took a threatening stance, looking exasperated. 

“Why would I be embarrassed to do that? I mean it is a little embarrassing, but that wouldn’t stop me.”

“What else is it you need to hide from me? I mean, aren’t we close enough that you should be able to tell me everything?” Richard was a little peeved.

Lee sighed, understanding why his partner was getting riled up. He would do the same if situations were reversed, “it’s not like that. It’s probably like, entirely psychosomatic. It is embarrassing, alright? My mind doing stupid stuff. I want it gone,” he sulked. “I can’t stop thinking about how them animals, customarily eaten whole, would swim around in my…” He brought a hand to his stomach, looking decisively green. “It’s this thing I have, awkward, right.”

Richard paused, not sure whether his immediate reaction was to laugh or cry. Lee was right, this was too awkward and it was a bit hard to take seriously. But then again, if it caused the younger man grief, then he should take it seriously himself. It took him some amount of self control and acting skills though to stop the amusement creeping into his voice when he blurted out, “but they are not alive to swim about, Lee.”

“I know that,” the other grunted, “but I can’t help it if they make me feel sick. Come on, let’s watch that recording, I need to forget about that issue.”

Richard sat next to him, placated somewhat, and put a hand round Lee’s shoulders, “but will you be able to forget about it though? And don’t talk to me about psychosomatic cause your whole stomach is a tight knot. Shouldn’t we still do something to help?” He put a hand on Lee’s thighs and rubbed to ease at least some of the tension in his body, even if he did not dare to touch Lee’s stomach still.

Lee shook his head, “no, I…I’m really not in the mood, I’m sorry.”

“Did you really think I wanted to get intimate when you’re sick?” The Englishman grunted, withdrawing again, “you really don’t trust me enough, do you?”

The Texan groaned, “can we not make this any more complicated than it is? Peace and quiet would help if you really need to do something,” he snapped, aggravated by the predicament his body and mind landed him in.

Richard reached over for the remote control to scroll to the programme he wanted Lee to see so they can contemplate new holiday destinations, “we’ll do it your way. My lap is here if you want to lie down and rest your head on it.” He was still annoyed that his boyfriend didn’t let him help, but he would let it slip since Lee wasn’t feeling well.

“I’ll take that,” the American gave a relieved smile and scooted into the position suggested. 

Tbc


	4. Cleansing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the wonderful and one and only Jaysop

Chapter 4: Cleansing

About ten minutes into the programme Richard decided it was entirely pointless having it on screen. He would keep it running to appease Lee, but not as if he could discuss anything about the location of the tv show or anything else in fact as Lee kept fidgeting, punctuated with the occasional stifled moan, clearly not comfortable. Suddenly he sat up, holding his belly. “I feel really sick,” he revealed, giving up with the charade, “but it’s not happening on its own. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, although I think if I made myself sick, it would be over with. It’s what I should’ve done…”

“Is that what you didn’t want to do in front of me?” Richard reacted rather mildly. He felt more sorry for his nauseated boyfriend than anything.

“Puking is gross enough to watch as it is, never mind making yourself sick.”

Richard waved him off, “let’s get it over with. Do you know how to do it?”

Lee gave him a look like Richard had two heads, “I had to slim down for a role before.”

“Okay. It’s just quite hard to do it on your own, at least I find it hard.”

“Mmm yeah, it’s hard sometimes.” The younger man stood, ambling towards the bathroom with resolve all the same. Even as much as the prospect of feeling better soon was making him somewhat relieved. “You’re not going to watch, are you? It will be disgusting,” he argued when he found Richard right behind him and himself unable to close the door.

“Baby, in sickness and health,” Richard ventured jokily, smiling supportively to ease the tension. 

“We didn’t have vows,” Lee argued.

“Maybe we should,” the older man offered.

“Sorry, I can’t talk about this right now,” Lee gave apologetically as he bent over, hugging himself in discomfort, then rushed over to the toilet to sit down in front of it and spat, “why can’t that bloody shrimp come out already! It always feels like it would and then it doesn’t.”

“Well, then put your fingers down your throat already!” Richard urged. He was getting impatient as he didn’t like to see his partner in distress.

Lee moaned, anticipating further unpleasantness, but nodded and set to work, leaning over the bowl as he pushed a couple of fingers further and further into his mouth. He gagged, stomach lurching with an unpleasant twist, but all he got was further cramping and a swimming head. Next thing he knew, Richard’s arms were around him. “Steady, Lee. Don’t faceplant into the toilet,” he warned half-jokingly, “are you okay?”

“Yeah…” Lee wheezed, coughing. His pride told him to send the other away, but it felt so comforting to be steadied and lean onto someone as he wrestled with his body.

“Should I help?” Richard suggested compassionately.

“As in shove some fingers into me so that I can puke all over you? Maybe not, thanks.” He rose on his haunches to take care of it himself, and this time, with the extra support of not having to concentrate on balancing himself as well, he managed to get his stomach contents where he wanted them to be. It tasted sour and his stomach felt like it was in a boxing match against his solar plexus, but the worst he thought was the sight. Those things, swimming again, this time in the toilet. He closed his eyes against it and pulled back, disgusted. But at least they weren’t in his stomach now. 

“Better?” Richard asked hopefully, handing him a bit of the toilet roll to clean his mouth. 

“Ugh…I don’t like puking. It hurts.” Lee complained, “especially if it’s induced.” He spat a couple more times into the bowl, cleaning his mouth.

“Come here baby,” Richard pulled him against his chest, sympathetic. His arms encircled him, instinctively going to Lee’s stomach before he stopped, “oh, sorry. Would it still hurt if I touched you here?”

“I don’t know…” Lee was undecided, but keen. He would deserve as much comfort as he could get after all the ordeal of the evening. “Try it,” he encouraged. 

Richard moved hesitantly, barely touching Lee’s abdomen when stroking it, but it seemed squishier and more relaxed than before, so he slid his fingers under the other’s shirt again. 

Lee seemed to relax his posture too, leaning into him as he loosened up, stomach no longer wanting to turn inside out. “I’m so stupid,” he beat himself up instead. “It’s almost like a phobia.”

“That’s ok, Lee, worse things happen at sea,” Richard smiled, glad that his boyfriend looked better. 

“Is that an intended pun?” Lee asked, incredulous. “At sea?”

“Yeah, it is,” the Englishman laughed. 

“Uhm, you’re not fair,” the younger man moaned, momentarily reminded of the ordeal.

“Am I hurting you?” Richard asked worriedly, stalling his ministrations of drawing gentle circles with the heel of his palm round Lee’s upper belly. 

“On the contrary,” Lee breathed harshly, “I think you’re pretty effective. At getting me in a different mood.” 

“Really?” The Englishman asked elatedly. “So you’re okay? It was nothing serious? Really are feeling better?” 

“I am,” the man with green eyes grabbed Richard’s hand and pushed it lower, towards his groin, “it’s that area that aches now.” Lee was eager to please the other, having wasted most of the evening for him.

“Yes?” Richard rose to the tease by bending his neck to plant some kisses and nip into Lee’s, nearing the side of his face and his mouth from round the way, while his hands roamed now, everywhere, not cautious any more. 

“Wait. Wait.” Lee pushed himself away, “maybe I should brush my teeth before you kiss me.” 

“I do not care about that,” Richard’s hands dropped even lower, teasing Lee’s wakening erection. “In sickness and health, remember?”

The End.


End file.
